


Lyin' Up In Your Bed

by RetroactiveCon



Category: Smash (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21652756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RetroactiveCon/pseuds/RetroactiveCon
Summary: Jimmy has never cared about crossing lines.
Relationships: Kyle Bishop/Jimmy Collins
Kudos: 25





	Lyin' Up In Your Bed

Jimmy is accustomed to living in places with minimal privacy. He knows what’s permissible, what’s bearable if everyone involved makes an effort not to be weird about it, and what should not under any circumstances happen. Kyle, on the other hand, is clearly used to having a great deal more privacy than this peculiar little apartment can afford him. 

Admittedly, Jimmy long ago got desensitized to being in earshot of sex noises. He’s just not sure Kyle wants a voyeur, and so he’s not sure what to do the first time he hears a hastily-stifled moan from the bathroom. He could call out and ask Kyle to wait until he leaves. (There’s nowhere he needs to be, but if Kyle needs privacy, he can wander off for a little while.) Alternatively, to spare Kyle’s inevitable blushes, he could keep quiet and…go? Stay? Continue writing songs like there’s nothing going on? 

Pretending there’s nothing happening isn’t an option, Jimmy decides. Kyle is clearly doing his best to stay quiet, but the bathroom is directly below Jimmy’s loft, so he can hear a lot. He could leave as quietly as the creaky stairs to the loft will permit…or, he decides when Kyle lets out a breathy little whimper that sends a completely inappropriate jolt of heat through him, he could stay. 

(He should go. Really, he should go. He’d be lying if he said he never thought about Kyle that way, but this feels like crossing a line.)

(Jimmy has never cared about crossing lines.) 

When Jimmy can no longer feasibly deny that he’s turned on, he attempts to convince himself that this is some kind of Pavlovian response. He likes when his partners make noise; Kyle is making a lot of noise; so, he's turned on. It isn't a response to Kyle specifically. This is a lie, he realizes when his brain opts to render an astonishingly detailed and completely unnecessary mental image of the way Kyle probably looks right now. 

“I’m going to hell,” Jimmy mutters. It’s only a token protest that does nothing to deter him from slipping his hand into his shorts. His eyes flutter closed at the first touch, which only serves to bring the mental image of Kyle into higher focus. Jimmy regrets everything about this situation…just not enough to stop. 

Kyle sounds like he’s trying to hurry, and the mental image reflects that: he’s touching himself with rushed, uneven strokes, his grip so tight it must be uncomfortable. Jimmy wants him to slow down, take his time. He knows the value of jerking off quickly and discreetly, but there comes a time when it feels less like release and more like a chore. After all the stress he puts himself through, Kyle deserves to take his time and make himself feel good. 

In response, the mental image shifts. Kyle’s rhythm evens out, his strokes turning long and slow and almost teasing. His face goes slack with pleasure, eyes fluttering closed and mouth dropping open. Jimmy wants to kiss him. Since this is only a fantasy, he feels safe to do just that, pulling him into a greedy, open-mouthed kiss. 

Kissing turns into sucking bruises into the pale skin of Kyle’s neck. Jimmy wraps a hand around Kyle’s dick, matching his rhythm to the slow, teasing pace Kyle set for himself. Kyle’s needy little whimpers get louder and more insistent until he comes all over Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy pulls him into another kiss to quiet him down and to stifle his own noises. 

When Jimmy opens his eyes, he has one hand clamped tightly over his mouth to keep from making any telltale noises. The other is sticky with come. He’s debating whether he can make it to the kitchen sink to wash his hands when Kyle emerges from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“Hi,” Jimmy says. He curses himself as soon as he speaks. Of all the ways he could have handled such an awkward situation, this is among the worst. 

Kyle whirls around, his eyes widening in shock and dismay. “Jimmy! I thought you were out!” 

“Nope.” Jimmy summons up his most winsome smile. “I was writing songs. Don’t worry, I’ve written through worse.”

Kyle looks as though he would very much like to melt into the floorboards. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Surreptitiously (he hopes), he wipes his hand on his blanket. It’s all right, he tells himself: it’s time to do laundry anyway. “Just, next time, if you want me to clear out, tell me. I promise not to tease you too much.”

Kyle nods and scuttles off to fetch some clothes. He barely says a word to Jimmy for the rest of the day, although the way he blushes whenever their eyes meet speaks volumes. For his part, Jimmy does his utmost to forget the entire thing. By that evening, he’s almost managed to convince himself that nothing happened.


End file.
